All 05.2 - Infernal Translation
It was evening, and the streets of Arlington were fairly quiet as most of its residents began to turn in for the night. The setting sun painted the city orange and pink, casting long shadows across the streets and alleyways. Moving with purpose, a dreadlocked young man traversed one of the tree-lined boulevards with what looked to be a guardsman's helmet tucked under one arm. He stopped for a moment outside one of the many apartment buildings on the street, then trotted lightly up its steps. He wound his way through the hallways and stairwells until he managed to find the door he was looking for and proceeded to give a vigorous knock, waiting for an answer with an attempt at an approximation of patience. The reply came relatively quickly. The grey-eyed inhabitant of the apartment opened the door and looked at his visitor with a mild surprise. "Good evening," he said politely. "Is there something I can do for you?" "Why the fuck do you live in a maze?" Lucca replied, not waiting for an invitation before moving to let himself in, "And yeah, actually. Take off your shirt, I've got something you might find interesting." "I..." Victor stood aside to let him past. He blinked, cleared his throat and started again, "All...right, I wouldn't exactly call this a maze, there are clearly labelled doors. Second, what about my shirt now?" He closed the door and moved back into the single room that made up the apartment. "Third, please take off your shoes. I dislike dirt being spread about the floor." Lucca paused, seeming to consider the request before begrudgingly kicking his boots off by the door, "There you go, princess." He dropped his backpack on the floor, continuing, "I brought you something. They're not quite done, but I think you'll like it." Pulling a folder out of his bag, he straightened up. "But in return, you've gotta let me look at your tatts, alright?" As he finished, he held out the folder to Victor, looking at him in askance. He waited for him to take it, which he did rather tentatively. As the other man perused the documents inside, Lucca continued, "What've you got to eat in here? I'm starving." "Oatmeal and tea," he said distractedly as he looked over the contents of the folder. "I believe I have some fruit and bread as well. Help yourself," he gestured over to the tiny kitchen area, which really only consisted of a sink, a cold stove and a cupboard. He looked over the papers for quietly for a few minutes, still standing near the front door. "Where did you get these...?" he asked quietly, not looking up from them. "Eugh, boring." He went to rummage through the cupboard, eventually procuring a chunk of bread and a peach. In the midst of chewing, he grunted and swallowed before answering, "Mmmh, Lady Erzebet's place, same day we found you. We rummaged the shit out of her house before we decided to check out the basement. Picked those up from..." he took another bite of bread and chewed thoughtfully for a moment, "mmmm, the study? I dunno, somewhere like that, room with a desk and books and shit. Anyway, I went and got them off Caity-pie a little while back and started translating them. Fuckin' pain in the ass though, let me tell you." "I'd imagine..." he said quietly. "I wouldn't guess that this is...mortal writing..." He took a few absent steps to the table and smoothly slid down into a crouch, laying the papers out before him, still reading them over. "You wish to compare the tattoos then?" he asked, not looking up. Lucca walked over to stand next to him, looking down at the papers as well, "Eh, more or less. I figure if I'm translating this shit, might as well do your tatts as well and get the whole deal figured out, ya know?" Finished with the bread, he took a bite of the peach, "I mean, from these I feel pretty comfortable saying that a) you're not just a crazy hobo she stuck in her basement, and b) she might have been batshit, but at least some of what she told you seems to have been true; she made a summon and made a contract, with a non-mortal being." "That's...heartening..." he seemed vaguely pleased, but more thoughtful than anything else. He hovered over the sheets for another minute before standing again. He walked over to his wardrobe and began taking his shirt off, folding it and putting it away neatly. "I suppose I will warn you now, the writing does go around my entire body. From what I can gather, there are several bands that wrap around, with some contained loops, particularly around my neck, arms and ankles. Most of those loops align with other bands if I hold my arms and legs particularly, so there might be multiple translations." He walked back to the center of the room, "In other words, this will be tedious, awkward, and probably take a long time." "Eh, that's cool. It's not like I have anything better to do tonight." He walked back over to his bag and fished out a pen and some sheets of paper, "Honestly, judging by the contract thingy, I was already expecting it to take more than one go; now you're saying theres a bunch more to it." Picking up his helmet, he returned to the table and dropped everything but the helmet onto it. "All I'ma say is, I hope you like company, and you should think about buying more food." "Funny how an infinite supply isn't enough," he replied with a muted grin. Lucca walked over to where the other man stood and scanned his arms and torso, his own arms folded across his chest. He pursed his lips and circled around Victor, taking in the full extent of the writing. "Shit eh? Somebody tried to write a fucking book on you. Must've hurt like a bitch. Especially these bits." He reached out and poked him first in the ribs, then the collarbone. "They must've sucked hard." "Well, I suppose it's for the best I don't remember it then," he replied. Lucca stopped and studied the words again before shrugging, "Eh. Might as well get started. We should sit." With that, he turned and walked back over to the table, pulling on his helmet as and plopping down crosslegged next to it. Victor walked over, slid fluidly to the ground and took up a crosslegged position as well. He sat straight and said, "Tell me if you need me to move in any way." Closing his eyes, he laid his arms on his lap and began the calm, deep breathing of meditation. Rather than responding, Lucca fussed with his papers, then his helmet, before scooting a bit closer and leaning in to inspect the band encircling Victor's neck. "This looks like a good place to start....shit...where does'' it'' start...ugh..." he continued to gripe to himself for a bit, eventually picking a place at random to begin. He fell to work with a rather uncharacteristicly intense focus. Occasionally he would mutter to himself, but for the most part, the only sound was the scratch of his pen. Rather than ask the older man to move, he circled around him as he worked. ---- Time passed slowly, and it was well into the night judging from the sliver of sky that could be seen through the apartment's singular small window. "Any particular insights?" Victor asked suddenly, breaking the long-held silence, his eyes still closed. His words elicted a startled squawk and a curse from the other man. "Fuck, man!" Lucca angrily scribbled out and rewrote the word he had just mangled when the sudden break in silence caused him to jump. With a sigh he threw down his pen and leaned back against the table, "I can tell you that it's bullshit hard to figure out. It's not like the other bit; this shit isn't even real words. I'm pretty sure it's all heavy duty magic," He glanced over at the older man again, shaking his head slightly, "Which, considering the amount of it you've got going on...I dunno, dude. Pretty whackadoo. Anyway, I've just been copying it out for the most part; can take it when I leave and work on it in my spare time. Started trying to translate it, but it's retardedly slow going." "Hmmm...it reads like magic, but doesn't register as having magical energy?" Victor reiterated. "That's odd indeed." He opened his eyes for the first time in hours. "Do you mind if I move some? I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but my legs and back are going stiff." The druid blinked, "Yeah for sure, go nuts. I just need to be able to see the shit on your back, I didn't get there yet." As he spoke, he got to his feet and stretched with a groan, "Honestly, let's call a break and come back in a few minutes; I want tea." He pulled the helmet off his head and dropped it on the table with a clatter, before walking towards the kitchen-area. "You can use that pot we found in the Avalon manor. It's rather convenient, actually. The tea things are in there as well," Victor said, gesturing towards the cupboard. Standing up, he began a series of stretches; he was more limber than one might have guessed from his appearance. As Lucca made tea from the scarce contents of Victor's kitchen, the other man went to where he had lain his sword on top of his dresser, took it up and began to methodically move through forms with careful measure. It looked like he was experimenting with different motions, trying to learn the best way to move the sword, and was ending up with a style very different from most Asonian swordplay, more fluid and integrating spinning motion of both the sword and body. Leaning against the counter, Lucca sipped his tea and silently watched the other man for some time with open interest. After some time he spoke up, "That's actually kinda cool...it looks like a dance. Where the hell did you learn something like that?" "I haven't the faintest idea," he replied. "Let's try it correctly." Victor centered himself, then suddenly began the same motions again at three times the speed. He whirled about at a ferocious pace, creating an equally frightening and artful display. With a sharp yell, he came to a halt, finishing his form. He took a few deep breaths and said, "That's always a good workout, though it's a shame, really, I'm getting..." he trailed off as he looked at Lucca. "Did you bring a weapon, by any chance?" The druid frowned suspiciously, "My knives. What's it to you?" "Well, they're technically weapons..." he said wryly, then pointed his sword at the druid, "Spar me. Standing here spinning my sword around will only get me so far, and I'm beginning to seriously worry that I'm going to get into an actual fight and be at a sore disadvantage due to lack of practice." His frown deepened into a scowl, "Get fucked. We have shit to be doing." He sat his empty cup on the counter and folded his arms across his chest. Victor raised an eyebrow and regarded him for a moment. "Is there any particular reason for your staunch refusal?" This earned him a derisive snort, "Yeah, actually. I have precisely no interest in getting all up in your sweaty business. So shut up and go sit down. Anyway, you'll just pull a muscle or some shit, old man." "Oh yes, because you'll have so much of an option to keep yourself pretty when it's an actual fight." Victor sheathed his sword and replaced it on the shelf. He sat down again, closed his eyes and said, "When you visit again, bring a real weapon. I will come at you, and you'll be rather sorry if you're unprepared." "Oh, fuck you. That's totally different, and you know it." Lucca joined the other man on the floor, pulling on his helmet and taking up his pen again. "Yeah yeah, whatever. Some thanks I get for trying figure this shit out for you." "It is thanks; I'm making you stronger. It's...a thank-you gift that will keep on giving," he replied with a hint of smugness. Lucca fell silent as he began to copy out the writing again, muttering not quite to himself after a few minutes, "Hell, I'm gonna enjoy smacking your ass around a bit, what with all the trash you talk." Victor's eyes were closed, but he gave a small grin. "I encourage you to try your hardest." ---- With a growl, the Lucca parried a slash that seemed to come out of nowhere, throwing it wide with a snap of his wrist. The blade fluidly reversed direction and arced elegantly back through the air, sweeping towards his face. The druid ducked the blow, dropping into a roll that ended with him springing up on the other side of his opponent. As he lept to his feet, he unleashed a flurry of vicious slashes aimed at the other man's midsection, accompanied by a wordless snarl. Whipping back and forth, the sword blocked the smaller blade's advances, driving the druid to further frustration. Taking an opening, he ducked under the sword's swing and lunged upwards, leaving a bloody cut up his opponent's torso. "Agh! Good!" Victor congratulated. "But I'm afraid," he punctuated his words with a sweep of his leg, knocking the now off-balance Lucca to the floor, "that you are hampered," he brought his sword back around to Lucca's hand, and with a clever twist, flicked the dagger out of his hand and knocked it away, "by a useless weapon," he finished, bringing his sword-tip to rest in front of Lucca's nose. "Fuck you! Prick!" The younger man's outburst was accompanied by savage kick toward's Victor's sword arm. Victor turned to roll with the kick, bringing his sword away and giving Lucca time to scrabble up to his feet. He drew a second knife as Victor took a defensive stance. "An actual opponent would have probably just stabbed you for a move like that, you know," he said calmly, blood dripping from his wound. "Well I guess that just makes you a pussy then, doesn't it?" Lucca practically spat, breathing hard. He continued after a moment, "The fuck are you standing around for? Let's go!" With that he exploded into motion, hurling the dagger in his hand at the other man and drawing another as he lunged forward, striking low at a momentary opening. Victor blocked the flying knife with his sword, creating the opening that Lucca rushed for. "Not twice!" He brought the hilt of his sword violently down on Lucca's head, stunning him momentarily. "And you're right," he added, positioning his blade with a twirl and lunging forward, impaling Lucca through the shoulder on his sword. "I was holding back." The scream that escaped the younger man was equal parts pain and rage, punctuating an eruption of largely impotent motion as he first swiped towards Victor's face with his free hand, then pulled yet another knife and slashed at the other man's sword arm. Following this, he grabbed at the blade of his sword and tried frantically to yank it out of his shoulder, earning a bloodied hand and not much else for his efforts. Only then did he drop to the floor to sit panting, shaking slightly. Victor held the sword firmly, steadily, dispassionately throughout. "Son of a bitch. Augh." "This will hurt. Don't bite your tongue," Victor offered then, when Lucca appeared ready, pulled the sword out. A throaty growl escaped through the druid's gritted teeth as the sword slid free, and he pressed his hand to the wound, a glower levelled firmly at the other man. "That was excellent," Victor offered as he sat down. "You have skills, they just need to be tempered further. You have...anger, which may or may not be an asset, depending on your usage of it." He began to wipe his sword off with a dishrag he had grabbed earlier. "I suppose I'll ask again, is there really no other weapon you'd prefer to use? I'm a fair hand with most weapons, I'm sure you could learn basically anything," he added sarcastically, "other than...I don't know, double-headed axes or nunchuks or something." He was met by a long, brooding silence from the younger man. Lucca chewed absently at the inside of his lip as he thought, eventually offering, his voice a bit hoarse, "An axe. But not one of those big fuckers...something still light, that wont slow me down...but with decent enough reach. So like...a hand-axe or battleaxe or whatever the fuck its called." Victor smiled, "That can be arranged." He winced slightly, "If you could heal us up, that would be greatly appreciated. I somehow doubt a huge scar is going to help your translation efforts any." ---- "Rrg, I can't BELIEVE how long that man talks," Caitlyn complained as the three of them, along with the other four students, left the studio where their photography course was being held. "I'm late. See ya," she added quickly, then took off at a jog towards the transit station, leaving the other two in the street. The pair walked quietly for a few minutes, as they usually did, before Victor ventured, "So...are you doing anything for the holiday tonight?" "I might be, what's it to ya?" he quirked an eyebrow at the other man, a small smirk playing about his lips, "Are you? Or are you gonna ask me on another date?" Victor rolled his eyes, looking uncomfortable. "Well, I thought I should do something, it's a holiday for a Materia god, and seeing as how I'm on Materia, it only seems polite. But..." he paused slightly, then sighed, "but you're supposed to celebrate with family and I'm rather sorely lacking in that regard. I'm not implying anything!" he said quickly and defensively, lest he offend the druid, "but, I figured that doing something alone was...missing the point. So..." he trailed off. A tittering laugh escaped the druid, "Lookit you squirm! Fantastic!" Still chuckling, he continued, "Is cool, I'll hang with ya...but I ''do ''expect something other than oatmeal and tea though." Suddenly switching gears, he looked at Victor with utmost seriousness, "And you have to let my friend come too, it's only fair. Don't worry though, she's good, you'll barely notice her." He raised an eyebrow, "...Is she an animal or a plant?" he asked with a slight grin. "Fuck you!" After a pause he added,"...she's a cat." "That's fine," Victor replied. "I suppose the question is, what are we going to eat? I will be perfectly honest: I eat oatmeal and tea everyday because I haven't the slightest idea of how to cook anything. At all. I can grasp the concept of 'item plus fire equals cooked item', and 'bread plus other things equals sandwich', but that's about it. If you have any particular insights, I welcome them wholeheartedly." Lucca screwed up his face, "Seriously dude? You're useless! The hell are you all about, asking someone to dinner and then you can't cook. That shit's ridiculous. I guess we're gonna have to swing by the marketplace...I can figure something out." "I have a limited skillset, so sue me," Victor replied. "I make up for my shortfalls with money. If you would like to bring your feline friend, we can't particularly go to a restaurant, but we could buy food and take it somewhere. Or I can buy something that you know how to cook, whichever." "I vote take out, and your place; it's getting to be a bit chilly at night for picnics, and fuck if I'm cooking for your ass." ---- Some time later, they arrived back at Victor's apartment, laden with inordinate amounts of food, and a small tortishell cat. "I dunno man, that shit's just not right. It's one thing to not like it, but come on! It's like, the king of the festival, you can't just not have any." Lucca adjusted his hold on one of the bags as he waited for the other man to unlock the door. "Fine, fine, I will eat the bloody pumpkin," he conceded, opening the door and letting everyone in. "And Yoma had best be pleased with my sacrifice." They began to spread out the food on the table as the cat poked around the apartment, finally settling in one of the empty paper bags. "Hmm..." Victor paused as they sat down. "Is there a standard prayer that you know of? Nothing is springing to my mind." In the midst of pulling open a tin of sardines, Lucca paused and shot him a disdainful look. "The hell kind of question is that? Use your head, dude!" Tipping the fish out onto a small plate, he wrinkled his nose slightly, continuing, "Duh. Just gimme a sec." He put the plate on the floor and slid it towards the cat with a little chirping sound. The cat peered out of the bag, then wandered over towards the proffered food and began eating. Victor looked somewhat blank and said, "No honestly. I don't pray. Do you have a formula, or a particular verse or something? Or is it just, whatever you feel like saying? I'm not familiar with the tradition, especially for a specific holiday. I defer to your knowledge of the god, as I suppose that it's to her that you pray for your magic." "Yeah, they've got some sorta thing they say around here, but fuck if I can remember it all." He shrugged, "Eh, more or less I guess? I dunno, where I'm from, we don't pray to gods per se...we recognize spirits. And we just sorta freestyle it; using a set verse is pretty shitty, we've found. Anyway, that said, Yoma is essentially the same as the great Nature Spirit, so I'm sure whatever I do, it's all good." "Well then," he said as he poured out some wine in a pair of newly-bought glasses. He lifted one up, "Take it away." So the odd little group, consisting of an amnesiatic man with Infernal ties, a druid a long way from home and a small, stray cat, celebrated the end of the harvest season in the name of whatever nature spirit happened to be listening. Category:Advent of the All